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DA Kiss Week - Fade

POV: You're Rook and you pine so hard for your crushes that desire demons visit you in your sleep

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neverook has me on a chokehold for real

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WIP Whenever Day

thanks for the tag @serbarris! <3 i'll tag @l-llavellans, @maagisterpavus, @himluv, @thuviel and @caitlam! this is from the final chapter of my small neverook fic!

Cool silk slid over his skin as he pulled the sleeves along his arms. He focused on fastening the buttons, letting the simple task still his restless mind.

Until a knock broke the quiet, that is.

“Come in,” Caelen called, his shirt still hanging half-open, lamplight spilling across the planes of his chest.

The door creaked, and Neve stepped through, her silhouette framed by the warm glow. She was out of her dress now, wearing a loose cotton shirt and trousers. Strands of dark hair clung to her temples, still damp from the earlier rain. Her gaze swept over him — undoubtedly assessing for wounds.

“You’re awake,” she noted, her words filled with something akin to relief. “That must mean your injury wasn’t half as bad as it looked.”

Caelen let out a short huff. “I’m afraid it takes more than a few Venatori to knock me out.”

The corner of her mouth curved faintly. “A god or two, maybe.”

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considering caelen is a fire mage, this is 100% canon

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hopefully i'll be able to get a headstart for lucanis week... fingers crossed

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DA Kiss Week - Fade

POV: You're Rook and you pine so hard for your crushes that desire demons visit you in your sleep

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something something neverook wip

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something something neverook wip

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I used to think my art style looked too "messy" for a long time, but with all the flood of souless AI-generated images nowadays, I'm happy to know that the little things that bothered me are actually part of what makes my art look human and 100% mine.

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OOOOO I LOVE FAMILY PROMPTS CAN I PLEASE GET EITHER OF THE DADS WITH CAELAN "nothing can touch you while i'm here." THANKS

Thank you so much for the prompt!! I've been obsessing with my family of blorbos and this one was so satisfying to write. This scene is set pre-veilguard! for @dadrunkwriting

Caelen had known he’d stand out.

Firstly, he wasn’t dressed like the others. His black silk shirt was embroidered with golden patterns, purposefully chosen to match Dorian’s robes. Tailored trousers hugged his frame, and a set of rings and layered necklaces added a refined touch to his attire. But all of it paled in comparison to the sea of ostentatious outfits meant to scream wealth and power.

Secondly — he was the only elf in the room.

The stares began long before Caelen crossed the entrance hall. Some were fleeting, as magisters catalogued him like a misplaced artifact. Others lingered, either by judgement or repulse. Only a few tried to be subtle about it. Most didn’t bother.

Stepping into the Magisterium felt the same as entering a viper’s nest, with each magister waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Caelen walked alongside Dorian, his father’s words echoing inside his mind like a mantra.

Remember: head high, chin lifted, shoulders back.

From a distance, humans clustered in small groups. As Caelen passed, one young man muttered something to a companion. She stifled a laugh behind a gloved hand. Caelen didn’t catch the words, but he didn’t need to. His lips pursed tighter.

He kept moving forward, focusing on the low hum of his father’s voice as he greeted an older colleague. 

Dorian hadn’t left his side for a second. He introduced Caelen formally as his heir every time a magister approached him — and each time, the word heir landed like a stone in a still pond, sending ripples across the chamber.

Caelen watched his surroundings, always vigilant. Another figure approached, draped in expensive robes and jewelry, though this one looked different from the others. The man walked as if the room belonged to him, each step measured. Heads turned to look at him, followed by whispers clinging close to the walls.

At his side walked a boy. A teenager, no older than Caelen himself. The resemblance between them was almost eerie, as if staring at someone else's past reflection. The boy’s sneer curled across his face the moment his eyes found Caelen’s.

Caelen stared back at him, jaw clenched.

The man’s eyes swept the room like a hunting hawk, until they landed on Dorian. His smile was all teeth.

“Well, Dorian,” he drawled, voice dipped in honeyed venom. “I must say you’ve outdone yourself this year.”

Dorian didn’t rise to the bait. “Lucien,” he replied evenly, tone low and composed.

Lucien’s gaze drifted to Caelen then, assessing him from head to toe.

“Tradition dictates the magisters bring their heirs, not their pets.” His lip curled with disdain. “Yet this one seems to have forgotten its leash.”

Caelen froze.

A weight settled in his chest, as if something long buried had clawed its way back to the surface. Lucien’s voice held the same tone the slavers used, and his gaze — it was the kind that stripped him down to nothing and expected him to bow.

His pulse pounded in his ears. He could feel eyes on him. Dozens, maybe more. Watching. Waiting. As if he were some creature brought in for their amusement. His shoulders stiffened. The instinct to flinch, to lower his gaze, to disappear, burned hot beneath his skin.

Don’t look down. Don’t look down—

He felt a subtle touch between his shoulder blades. Dorian’s hand, steady and grounding.

“Lucien,” Dorian’s voice sliced through the fog in Caelen’s mind, pulling him back to reality. “I’d caution you to choose your next words with something resembling intelligence — though I realize that’s never been your strong suit.”

A few magisters nearby cocked their heads, listening more intently.

“I speak only the truth.” Lucien folded his hands behind his back with the ease of a man certain of his own importance. “This is a tradition built on lineage.”

Dorian arched an unimpressed brow. “Ah, yes. The annual gathering of magisters and their oh-so-precious heirs. I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

Lucien’s smile didn’t waver. “Be that as it may, we’re gathered today to honour the bloodlines that shaped the Imperium.” He didn’t even glance at Caelen this time, referring to him as if he wasn’t worth the attention. “And here you are, mocking the Magisterium itself by presenting an elf as your heir.”

“No,” Dorian replied coldly. “I mock traditions that were never strength to begin with, but excuses for cruelty.”

“An elf, Dorian,” Lucien scoffed, as if Dorian hadn’t heard him the first time. “You might dress him in gold and silk, parade him about for everyone to see, but in the end, he’s—”

“My son,” Dorian snapped, his voice cracking through the air like a lightning strike. “And certainly more welcome at my side than a parasite feeding on legacy while contributing nothing to it.”

Gasps fluttered within the crowd. Even a few of the younger heirs stiffened, Caelen included. Dorian took one step forward, fierce but controlled. Magic clung to him like thunder rolling off the distance, signaling a storm to come.

“If you ever refer to him like that again,” he hissed, “I will make sure your heir learns exactly what it means to inherit shame.”

Lucien’s face twisted into a grimace. His son stood still beside him, eyes locked on the floor, the smile vanished from his lips.

“How dare you—”

“That’s enough.”

All heads turned as Archon Radonis entered the hall, his elegant robes sweeping behind him like a curtain drawn across a stage. His presence alone was commanding enough to silence the room. The guards flanking the doors straightened as he stepped to the center of the chamber.

“I believe we are here to honor legacy,” Radonis said, “not indulge in theatrics.”

He cast a sharp glance between Lucien and Dorian — unimpressed, as though he'd seen this kind of display far too many times — and with a flick of his hand, dismissed the moment entirely.

“All magisters and heirs, take your seats. The session begins now.”

Chairs scraped against the floor as the chamber shifted back into order. 

Dorian shot one final stare at Lucien before turning to Caelen, his posture composed as ever. Without a word, he moved to accompany him, guiding them both toward their seats. -----------------------------

The door shut behind them with a soft click.

Caelen exhaled for what felt like the first time in hours.

A familiar scent of leather tomes and aromatic candles filled the air. Home. Caelen pressed a hand to the wall as his shoulders sank, the tension radiating off his body like steam.

“Caelen,” Dorian approached him, his footsteps soft over the carpet. “Are you alright?”

Caelen hesitated, eyes locked on the floor. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Except he wasn’t.

He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly quite aware of how his muscles ached. His head pounded, and there was a suffocating knot in his throat that hadn’t left since Lucien said the word pet. A shudder ran across his spine, his fingers tightening against the doorway.

Still, he drew in a breath. “Just tired.”

Dorian stepped closer, slow and careful, until he stood in front of him.

“You didn’t have to go through that,” he said. “And yet you carried yourself with more grace than anyone in that wretched hall ever would.”

For a moment, Caelen didn't reply. He only listened to the fire crackling in the next room, inhaling the smell of lavender drifting in the air. Anything to distract his mind from the phantom grip still coiled around his neck.

“...Are the Magisterium meetings always like this?” He asked, finally forcing himself to meet Dorian's gaze.

Dorian’s mouth curled. “Not always,” he pondered. “Sometimes they’re worse.”

Caelen let out a huff. “Great.”

“But they’re rarely worth remembering,” Dorian continued. “Today only stood out because someone dared to bring a spark of substance into the room.”

Caelen tilted his head. “You mean me?”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t Lucien,” Dorian said dryly. “The man is so desperate for attention it’s truly embarrassing.”

“I know.” Caelen pursed his lips at the mention of Lucien’s name, crossing his arms. “Kinda hard to miss that.”

Without a word, Dorian placed a hand over Caelen’s shoulder. It was the same gesture he’d offered back at the Magisterium, his touch protective and soothing.

“He won’t so much as look at you the wrong way while I’m here,” Dorian promised. “No one will.”

Caelen didn’t doubt it.

He’d seen Dorian’s magic before — it was devastating. Terrifyingly so. His promise should make him feel safe and sound, and yet… Caelen couldn’t shake the dreadful feeling coiling in his stomach.

“What about you?” He asked, guilt weighing on his words before he could stop it. “You’re risking yourself because of me.”

Dorian arched his brow. “And I would do it again. Gladly.”

“Even if you lose your seat at the Magisterium?”

“Yes,” Dorian didn’t hesitate for a second. He used his other hand to gently lift Caelen’s chin. “You’re my son, Caelen. You are far more important than any blasted title. I won't allow anyone to disrespect you, no matter the cost.”

Caelen inhaled slowly, the words bringing some much-needed warmth to his chest. He gave a weak nod, blinking away the hot sting in his eyes.

“Thanks, father,” he whispered, not quite trusting his voice.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Dorian replied, lips curving into a fond smile. “But you do have to come sit with me and let me fuss over you a little.”

A short huff escaped Caelen. “Only if you don’t make tea the weird Tevinter way again.”

Dorian gasped in mock offense, hands falling to his sides. “You wound me.”

“Sorry,” Caelen replied, deadpan, “but nothing beats dad’s tea. Or his cooking. Obviously.”

Dorian rolled his eyes. “Yes, do rub salt directly into the wound. Shall we name all the things Marel allegedly does better than me?”

“Would you like a list?” Caelen grinned.

“Blasphemy,” Dorian muttered as he turned toward the kitchen, dramatic as ever.

Caelen followed, a quiet chuckle slipping past his lips. The heaviness in his chest hadn’t disappeared, but it had loosened. Just a little.

And for now, that was enough.

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Your OC's Children

So, @maagisterpavus tagged me and now I'm having the brainworms in the middle of work lmao (I mean, it's friday, can you blame me?) Picrew link

I did this one for Caelen, who's Marel and Dorian's son. Caelen is a former slave who got rescued by Marel around the age of 10. The picture on the left is how he looked immediately after being rescued, and the picture on the right is how he looked one year later.

the way you can tell Caelen's wardrobe radically shifted once Dorian started to dress him

Long story short: a few years post-Trespasser, Marel was on a mission to hunt a group of slavers. He stumbled upon a blood magic ritual, and right in the center of it, there was a child bleeding out.

Marel killed the slavers and rescued the kid, offering temporary shelter until he figured out what to do next. Then Marel found out about the child's draconic blood — something the Venatori valued greatly. It would be too dangerous to leave the child anywhere else, so Marel took care of Caelen.

What was supposed to be a short-lived thing quickly turned into an adoption. Marel didn't see it coming at first, but he got attached to the kid real fast. He's always had a strong sense of family within himself, and he couldn't help but to feel very protective over the kid. Deep down, he always wanted to be a father, but he never guessed when or if that would happen. It felt like a distant wish, something he wasn't even sure would happen one day.

Dorian was a bit hesitant in the beginning, because he never pictured himself as a father. Still, it didn't take long for him to grow attached to Caelen as well. He taught Caelen how to control his magic and they started to bond over this.

I'm writing the backstory of Caelen's adoption in my fic From Ashes to Flames, if anyone's interested!

Tagging @serbarris, @himluv, @the-font-bandit, @apothe-cary, @veil-song and @l-llavellans, no pressure!

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here's a couple more rookanis love scene screenshots because i'll never recover from this

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best m/f dynamic is a flamboyant bisexual show-off desperately in love with an extremely practical girl who’s difficult to impress 🤩

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this screenshot turned out so funny because lucanis approaching in the corner has this exact energy:

lucanis/spite: let me stab him. let me- caelen: not now, love, i'm kinda busy here

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Character Cards

thanks for the tag @serbarris!!❤️ Rules: make your OCs and link your fic or OC tag! ✨Picrew link✨

for this one I did my favorite duo of fathers and their son hehe

Marel Lavellan & Dorian Pavus

Caelen Mercar

i'll be tagging @l-llavellans, @himluv, @apothe-cary, @megthemariner, @maagisterpavus and @veil-song!

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(tweaked this preset to my version of Fenris at the current point in the timeline)

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Calm morning ☕

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This picture has worn me out. High key is so hard for me to pull off.